
Class Zcc ^ 

Book 



tS 



GopyiighlN" \ ^ 5 



CDFlfRIGHT DEPOSrr. 




Robert Browning 



Saul 



Designed and 
hand colored by 
Lolita Ferine 




/7^ 



Published in New York by 
Dodge Publishing Company 



Copyright, igoj, by Dodge Publishing Co. 



THE LIBRAPV OF 

CONGRESS, 
One Copy RecErvEO 

NOV. 1903 

CLASS '^ XXa No 
COPY B.' 



©?&^ 



Saul 



I 



SAID Abner, "At last thou art come! 
Ere I tell, ere thou speak, 
Kiss my cheek, wish me well!" Then I 

wished it, and did kiss his cheek. 
And he, "Since the King, my friend, for 

thy countenance sent. 
Neither drunken nor eaten have we; nor until 

from his tent 
Thou return with the joyful assurance the 

King liveth yet, 
Shall our lips with the honey be bright, with 

the water be wet. 
For out of the black mid-tent's silence, a 

space of three days. 
Not a sound hath escaped to thy servants, of 

prayer nor of praise, 
To betoken that Saul and the Spirit have 

ended their strife, 
And that, faint in his triumph, the monarch 

sinks back upon life. 




en J, as was meet, 
Knelt down to the God of my 

fathers, and rose on my feet, 
And ran o'er the sand burnt 

to powder. 



Saul 



III 




Then I, as was meet, 
Knelt down to the God of my fathers, and 

rose on my feet. 
And ran o'er the sand burnt to powder. The 

tent was unlooped; 
I pulled up the spear that obstructed, and 

under I stooped; 
Hands and knees on the slippery grass-patch, 

all withered and gone, 
That extends to the second enclosure, I 

groped my way on 
Till I felt where the foldskirts fly open. Then 

once more I prayed. 
And opened the foldskirts and entered, and 

was not afraid 
But spoke, "Here is David, thy servant!" 

And no voice replied. 
At the first I saw nought but the blackness; 

but soon I descried 
A something more black than the blackness — 

the vast, the upright 



<s^&. 



Saul 



VII 



Then I played the help-tune of our reapers, 
their wine-song, when hand 

Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good friend- 
ship, and great hearts expand 

And grow one in the sense of this world's life. 
— And then, the last song 

When the dead man is praised on his journey 
— "Bear, bear him along 

With his few faults shut up like dead flowerets! 

— Are balm seeds not here 
To console us? The land has none left such 

as he on the bier. 
Oh, would we might keep thee, my brother!" 

—And then, the glad chaunt 
Of the marriage,— first go the young maidens, 

next, she whom we vaunt 
As the beauty, the pride of our dwelling.— 

And then, the great march 




ir manhood's prime 

vigor 

o spirit feels waste, 

Not a muscle is stopped in its 

playing, nor sinew unbraced. 

•h, the wild joys of living! the 

leaping from rock up to rock, 

The strong rending of boughs from 

the fir-tree, the cool silver shock 

Of the plunge in a pool's living 

water, the hunt of the bear. 
And the sultriness showing the 
lion is couched in his lair. 



Saul 



II 



IX 



"Oh, our manhood's prime vigor! 

No spirit feels waste, 
Not a muscle is stopped in its playing, nor 

sinew unbraced. 
Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from 

rock up to rock, 
The strong rending of boughs from the fir- 
tree, the cool silver shock 
Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the 

hunt of the bear, 
And the sultriness showing the lion is couched 

in his lair. 
And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over 

with gold dust divine, 
And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, 

the full draught of wine, 
And the sleep in the dried river-channel where 

bulrushes tell 
That the water was wont to go warbling so 

softly and well. 



^cJ^Oi 



12 



Saul 



How good is man's life, the mere living! how 
fit to employ 

All the heart and the soul and the senses for- 
ever in joy! 

Hast thou loved the white locks of thy father, 
whose sword thou didst guard 

When he trusted thee forth with the armies, 
for glorious reward? 

Didst thou see the thin hands of thy mother, 
held up as men sung 

The low song of the newly-departed, and hear 
her faint tongue 

Joining in while it could to the witness, 'Let 
one more attest, 

I have lived, seen God's hand through a life- 
time, and all was for best?' 

Then they sung through their tears in strong 
triumph, not much, but the rest. 

And thy brotiiers, and help and the contest, 
the working whence grew 

Such results as, from seething grape-bundles, 
the spirit strained true: 

And the friends of thy boyhood— that boy- 
hood of wonder and hope. 

Present promise and wealth of the future 
beyond the eye's scope, — 

Till lo, thou art grown to a monarch; a people 
is thine; 



14 



Saut 



And lo, with that leap of my spirit,— heart, 

hand, harp and voice, 
Each hfting Saul's name out of sorrow, pach 

bidding rejoice 
Saul's fame in the hght it was made for— as 

when, dare I say. 
The Lord's army, in rapture of service, strains 

through its array. 
And upsoareth the cherubim-chariot — "Saul!" 

cried I, and stopped, 
And waited the thing that should follow. 

Then Saul, who hung propped 
By the tent's cross-support in the centre, was 

struck by his name. 
Have ye seen when Spring's arrowy summons 

goes right to the aim. 
And some mountain, the last to withstand her, 

that held (he alone. 
While the vale laughed in freedom and 

flowers) on a broad bust of stone 




nd lo, with that leap 
of my spirit,— heart, 
hand, harp and 
voice, 
Each lifting Saul's name 
out of sorrow, each bid- 
ding rejoice 
SauTs fame in the light it 
was made for— as when, 
dare I say. 
The Lord's army, in rap- 
ture of service, strains 
through its array. 
And upsoareth the cheru- 
bim-chariot — '' Saul !" 
cried I, and stopped, 
d waited the thing that 
ould follow. 



H 



uv 



Saul 



15 



A year's snow bound about for a breast-plate, 

— leaves grasp of the sheet? 
Fold on fold all at once it crowds thunder- 
ously down to his feet, 
And there fronts you, stark, black, but alive 

yet, your mountain of old, 
With his rentp, the successive bequeathings of 

ages untold — 
Yes, each harm got in fighting your battles, 

each furrow and scar 
Of his head thrust 'twixt you and the tem- 
pest—all hail, there they are! 
— Now again to be softened with verdure, 

again hold the nest 
Of the dove, tempt the goat and its young to 

the green on his crest 
For their food in the ardors of summer. One 

long shudder thrilled 
All the tent till the very air tingled, then sank 

and was stilled 
At the King's self left standing before me, 

released and aware. 
What was gone, what remained? All to 

traverse 'twixt hope and despair; 
Death was past, life not come: so he waited. 

Awhile his right hand 
Held the brow, helped the eyes left too vacant 

forthwith to remand 



M)3 



^^ 



^^ 



16 



Saul 



To their place what new objects should enter: 

'twas Saul as before. 
1 looked up and dared gaze at those eyes, nor 

was hurt any more 
Than by slow pallid sunsets in autumn, ye 

watch from the shore, 
At their sad level gaze o'er the ocean— a sun's 

slow decline 
Over hills which, resolved in stern silence, 

o'er-lap and entwine 
Base with base to knit strength more intensely: 

so arm folded arm 
O'er the chest whose slow heavings subsided. 



-(SB- 



Saol 



17 



What spell of what charm 
For, awhile there was trouble within me,) 

what next should I urge 
To sustain him where song had restored him? 

—Song filled to the verge 
His cup with the wine of this life, pressing all 

that it yields 
Of mere fruitage, the strength and the beauty: 

beyond, on what fields. 
Glean a vintage more potent and perfect to 

brighten the eye 
And bring blood to the lip, and commend 

them the cup they put by? 
He saith, "It is good;" still he drinks not: he 

lets me praise life. 
Gives assent, yet would die for his own part. 



•ssSl-J 



18 



Saul 



XII 



Then fancies grew rife 
Which had come long ago on the pasture, 

when round me the sheep 
Fed in silence — above, the one eagle wheeled 

slow as in sleep; 
And I lay in my hollow and mused on the 

world that might lie 
'Neath his ken, though I saw but the strip 

'twixt the hill and the sky: 
And I laughed— "Since my days are ordained 

to be passed with my flocks. 
Let me people at least, with my fancies, the 

plains and the rocks. 
Dream the life I am never to mix with, and 

image the show 
Of mankind as they live in those fashions I 

hardly shall know! 
Schemes of life, its best rules and right uses, 

the courage that gains. 
And the prudence that keeps what men strive 

for." 



^^0! 



20 



Saul 



XIII 



"Yea, my King," 

I began— "thou dost well in rejecting mere 
comforts that spring 

From the mere mortal life held in common by 
man and by brute : 

In our flesh grows the branch of this life, in 
our soul it bears fruit. 

Thou hast marked the slow rise of the tree, — 
how its stem trembled first 

Till it passed the kid's lip, the stag's antler; 
then safely outburst 

The fan-branches all round; and thou mindest 
when these too, in turn. 

Broke a-bloom and the palm-tree seemed per- 
fect: yet more was to learn. 

E'en the good that comes in with the palm- 
fruit. Our dates shall we slight, 

When their juice brings a cure for all sorrow? 
or care for the plight 



if 



E 



g)«??V» 



Saul 



21 



Of the palm's self whose slow growth produced 

them? Not so! stem and branch 
Shall decay, nor be known in their place, while 

the palm-wine shall stanch 
Every wound of man's spirit in winter. I 

pour thee such wine. 
Leave the flesh to the fate it was fit for! the 

spirit be thine! 
By the spirit, when age shall o'ercome thee, 

thou still shalt enjoy 
More indeed, than at first when inconscious, 

the life of a boy. 
Crush that life, and behold its wine running! 

Each deed thou hast done 
Dies, revives, goes to work in the world; until 

e'en as the sun 
Looking down on the earth, though clouds 

spoil him, though tempests efface, 
Can find nothing his own deed produced not, 

must everywhere trace 
The results of his past summer-prime, — so, 

each ray of thy will, 
Every flush of thy passion and prowess, long 

over, shall thrill 
Thy whole people, the countless, with ardor, 

till they too give forth 
A like cheer to their sons, who in turn, fill the 

South and the North 



^.^Q 



22 



Saul 



With the radiance thy deed was the germ of. 
Carouse in the past! 

But the license of age has its limit; thou diest 
at last: 

As the lion when age dims his eyeball, the 
rose at her height, 

So with man — so his power and his beauty for- 
ever take flight. 

No! Again a long draught of my soul- wine! 
Look forth o'er the years! 

Thou hast done now with eyes for the actual; 
begin with the seer's! 

Is Saul dead? In the depth of the vale make 
his tomb — bid arise 

A gray mountain of marble heaped four- 
square, till, built to the skies. 

Let it mark where the great First King slum- 
bers: whose fame would ye know? 

Up above see the rock's naked face, where the 
record shall go 

In great characters cut by the scribe, — Such 
was Saul, so he did; 

With the sages directing the work, by the 
populace chid, — 

For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! 
Which fault to amend, 

In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, 
v/hereon they shall spend 



^iffl?@ 



24 



Saul 



XIV 



And behold while I sang . . . but Thou 

who didst grant me that day, 
And before it not seldom hast granted thy 

help to essay, 
Carry on and complete an adventure, — my 

shield and my sword 
In that act where my soul was thy servant, 

thy word was my word. 
Still be with me, who then at the summit of 

human endeavor 
And scaling the highest, man's thought could, 

gazed hopeless as ever 
On the new stretch of heaven above me — till, 

mighty to save. 
Just one lift of thy hand cleared that dis- 
tance — God's throne from man's grave; 
Let me tell out my tale to its ending — my 

voice to my heart 
Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels 

last night I took part, 



26 



Saul 



XV 



I say then, — my song 
While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and 

ever more strong 
Made a proffer of good to console him — he 

slowly resumed 
His old motions and habitudes kingly. The 

right hand replumed 
His black locks to their wonted composure, 

adjusted the swathes 
Of his turban, and see — the huge sweat that 

his countenance bathes. 
He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now 

his loins as of yore. 
And feels slow for the armlets of price, with 

the clasp set before. 
He is Saul, ye remember in glory, — ere error 

had bent 
The broad brow from the daily communion; 

and still, though much spent 



Saul 



27 



Be the life and the bearing that front you, 

the same, God did choose. 
To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, 

never quite lose. 
So sank he along by the tent-prop till, stayed 

by the pile 
Of his armor and war-cloak and garments, he 

leaned there awhile. 
And sat out my singing, — one arm round the 

tent-prop, to raise 
His bent head, and the other hung slack — till 

I touched on the praise 
I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man 

patient there; 
And thus ended, the harp falling forward. 

Then first I was 'ware 
That he sat, as I say, with my head just above 

his vast knees 
Which were thrust on each side around me, 

like oak roots which please 
To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I 

looked up to know 
If the best I could do had brought solace: he 

spoke not, but slow 
Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he 

laid it with care 
goft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my 

brow: through my hair 



W^ 



28 



Saul 



The large fingers were pushed, and he bent 

back my head, with kind power — 
All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men 

do a flower. 
Thus held he me there with his great eyes 

that scrutinized mine — 
And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but 

where was the sign? 
I yearned — "Could I help thee, my father, 

inventing a bliss, 
I would add, to that life of the past, both the 

future and this; 
I would give thee new life altogether, as good, 

ages hence. 
As this moment, — had love but the warrant, 

love's heart to dispense!" 



IK 




yearned— <<Could I help 
thee, my father, invent- 
ing a bliss, 

I would add, to that life 
of the past, both the 
future and this; 

I would give thee new 
life altogether, as good, 
ages hence, 

As this moment, — had 
love but the warrant, 
love's heart to dis- 
pense ! " 



28 



30 



Saul 



Do I task any faculty highest, to image suc- 
cess? 
I but open my eyes, — and perfection, no more 

and no less, 
In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and 

God is seen God 
In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the 

soul and the clod. 
And thus looking within and around me, I 

ever renew 
(With that stoop of the soul which in bending 

upraises it too) 
The submission of man's nothing-perfect to 

God's all-complete, 
As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to 

his feet. 
Yet with all this abounding experience, this 

deity known, 
I shall dare to discover some province, some 

gift of my own. 
There's a faculty pleasant to exercise, hard to 

hoodwink, 
I am fain to keep still in abeyance, (I laugh as 

I think) 
Lest, insisting to claim and parade in it, wot 

ye, I worst 
E'en the Giver is one gift. — Behold, I could 

love if I durst! 



B'^^^, 



Saul 



31 



But I sink the pretension as fearing a man 

may o'ertake 
God's own speed in the one way of love: I 

abstain for love's sake. 
— What, my soul? see thus far and no farther? 

when doors great and small, 
Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should 

the hundredth appall? 
In the least things have faith, yet distrust in 

the greatest of all? 
Do I find love so full in my nature, God's 

ultimate gift, 
That I doubt his own love can compete with 

it? Here, the parts shift? 
Here, the creature surpass the Creator — the 

end, what Began? 
Would I fain in my impotent yearning do all 

for this man. 
And dare doubt he alone shall not help him, 

who yet alone can? 
Would it ever have entered my mind, the 

bare will, much less power. 
To bestow on this Saul what I sang of, the 

marvelous dower 
Of the life he was gifted and filled with? to 

make such a soul, 
Such a body, and then such an earth for 

insphering the whole? 



32 



Saul 



And doth it not enter my mind (as my warm 
tears attest), 

These good things being given, to go on, and 
give one more, the best? 

Ay, to save and redeem and restore him, 
maintain at the height 

This perfection, — succeed with life's day- 
spring, death's minute of night? 

Interpose at the difficult minute, snatch 
Saul the mistake, 

Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now, — 
and bid him awake 

From the dream, the probation, the prelude, 
to find himself set 

Clear and safe in new light and new life, — a 
new harmony yet 

To be run, and continued, and ended — who 
knows? — or endure! 

The man taught enough by life's dream, of the 
rest to make sure; 

By the pain-throb, triumphantly winning in- 
tensified bliss. 

And the next world's reward and repose, by 
the struggles in this. 




jy the pain-throb, tri- 
umphantly winning in- 
tensified bliss, 
And the next world*s re- 
ward and repose, by the 
struggles in this. 



32 



B^^Sk^ 



Satil 



33 



XVII 



^ 



"I believe it! 'Tis thou, God, that givest, 'tis 

I who receive: 
In the first is the last, in thy will is my power 

to believe. 
All's one gift: thou canst grant it moreover, 

as prompt to my prayer 
As I breathe out this breath, as I open these 

arms to the air. 
From thy will, stream the worlds, life and 

nature, thy dread Sabaoth: 
/ will? the mere atoms despise me! Why 

am I not loth 
To look that, even that in the face too? Why 

is it I dare 
Think but lightly of such impuissance? What 

stops my despair? 
This; — 'tis not what man Does which exalts 

him, but what man Would do! 
See the King — I would help him but cannot, 

the wishes fall through. 



^4^0! 



34 



Saul 



Could I wrestle to raise him from sorrow, 

grow poor to enrich, 
To fill up his life, starve my own out, I would 

—knowing which, 
I know that my service is perfect. Oh, speak 

through me now! 
"Would I suffer for him that I love? So 

wouldst thou — so wilt thou! 
So shall crown thee the topmost, ineff ablest, 

uttermost crown — 
And thy love fills infinitude wholly, nor leave 

up nor down 
One spot for the creature to stand in! It is 

by no breath, 
Turn of eye, wave of hand, that salvation 

joins issue with death! 
As thy Love is discovered almighty, almighty 

be proved 
Thy power, that exists with and for it, of 

being Beloved! 
He who did most, shall bear most; the strong- 
est shall stand the most weak. 
»Tis the weakness in strength that I cry for! 

my flesh, that I seek 
In the Godhead! I seek and I find it. 

Saul, it shall be 
A Face like my face that receives thee ; a Man 

like to me 



«N^@! 



36 



Saul 



XVIII 



I know not too well how I found my way 

home in the night. 
There were witnesses, cohorts about me, to 

left and to right. 
Angels, powers, the unuttered, unseen, the 

alive, the aware : 
I repressed, I got through them as hardly, as 

strugglingly there, 
As a runner beset by the populace famished 

for news — 
Life or death. The whole earth was awak- 
ened, hell loosed with her crews; 
And the stars of night beat with emotion, 

and tingled and shot 
Out in fire the strong pain of pent knowledge: 

but I fainted not. 
For the Hand still impelled me at once and 

supported, suppressed 
All the tumult, and quenched it with quiet, 

and holy behest. 



Saul 



37 



Till the rapture was shut in itself, and the 

earth sank to rest. 
Anon at the dawn, all that trouble had 

withered from earth — 
Not so much, but I saw it die out in the day's 

tender birth; 
In the gathered intensity brought to the 

gray of the hills; 
In the shuddering forests* held breath; in the 

sudden wind-thrills; 
In the startled wild beasts that bore off, each 

with eye sidling still 
Though averted with wonder and dread; in 

the birds stiff and chill 
That rose heavily, as I approached them, 

made stupid with awe: 
E'en the serpent that slid away silent, he 

felt the new law. 
The same stared in the white humid faces 

upturned by the flowers; 
The same worked in the heart of the cedar 

and moved the vine-bowers: 
And the little brooks witnessing murmured, 

persistent and low. 
With their obstinate, all but hushed voices — 

"E'en so, it is so!" 



FINIS. 



.BMy'21 



